Ghost Ship

Sam withdrew the bloodied knife, his blue eyes cold as the deepest depths of the ocean. He said, “To be honest, I don’t really know. But I’m starting to find out that I don’t like to die, and I don’t think I have any moral objection to violently extracting retribution from those who have harmed me.”

Sam and Andre exchanged a glance.

They were on opposite sides of the cargo bay, with the jagged opening in the fuselage somewhere in the middle. Andre’s face seemed to have a curious expression. Somewhere between fear and elation was the look of defiant victory.

Their eyes darted to the scar across the fuselage.

Andre gave a cursory glance at the backpack straps on his chest. There were six of them and they were all joined at a single metallic shackle — the kind used by base jumpers.

Sam cursed.

Andre had a parachute and was going to try and make a jump.

Sam didn’t wait for him to make a move. He started running toward him. If Andre was in any doubt about his next move, he didn’t show it. Instead, Andre gripped Sam’s backpack in his hands and ran straight for the opening.

Sam didn’t hesitate. He ran toward Andre.

But Andre beat him to the opening and jumped out.

Sam should have stopped.

But, like the Viking Berserkers of long ago, Sam lost all sense of perspective. His mind narrowed and focused, locking in on his one and only purpose. If whatever was on that Betamax tape had caused all his misfortune, he was going to do whatever it took to retrieve it and make the architect of his misery suffer equally painful retribution.

With that thought in mind, Sam followed Andre, and leaped out through the opening into the void five thousand feet below!

Chapter Forty-Four

Sam entered a stable freefall head down position.

Andre, who had more than two seconds head start, was little more than a speck hundreds of feet below him, descending in a stable, belly-to-earth position.

Sam streamlined his body, with his arms flat beside his hips, racing to reach the fastest possible fall rate. In stable, belly-to-earth position, terminal velocity is about 120 miles per hour, stable freefall head down position has a terminal speed of 150 to 180 miles per hour and further minimization of drag by streamlining the body allows for speeds in the vicinity of 300 miles per hour.

A speed that Sam was rapidly approaching.

The force of gravity quickly reached equilibrium with the resistance of air, and Sam stabilized at his terminal velocity.

Below him, Andre, oblivious to Sam’s insanity, was still falling in a belly-to-earth position with a terminal velocity of roughly 120 miles per hour, in blithe ignorance.

Sam zoomed in on an intercept course.

He needed to reduce speed or he would smash through Andre, killing both of them in the process. Sam lowered his head and spread his arms, with his legs as far apart as possible, assuming a flat stance. It slowed him immediately, but he was still going too fast.

His greatest fear, even more than colliding into Andre, was that he would go too fast, and miss him altogether.

Sam pointed his feet and toes as much as possible into a flat star position. He completely flattened his torso and tried to keep himself as flat as possible.

The result was like opening a parachute.

His speed reduced to a not so measly rate of 140 miles per hour within seconds. He lined up perfectly with Andre, bent his legs to take some of the pressure out of the jolt — and a moment later, slammed into him.

Andre cried out — startled and terrified.

Sam jammed his hand through the back of Andre’s parachute strap, forming a fist on the other side to form a natural lock. Now that he’d made the connection there was no way he was separating from Andre until they reached the ground — dead or alive.

Locked together, wind howled across them.

Andre tried to twist his body and free himself, but Sam had made certain that wasn’t going to happen.

With Sam’s free hand, he tried to draw the blade he’d taken from Naftali, but in the movement, the knife fell free. In a maddening act of ironic humor, the knife was falling mere feet out of his reach.

Together they continued to free fall.

Andre looked at him, his eyes widened and his face a hardened mess. He snarled, “Are you fucking crazy! There’s no way this parachute is going to take both our weights!”

Sam’s lips twisted into a sardonic grin. “Then you’d better let go.”

“No way.”

With his free hand, Sam punched him in the side of his chest.

Andre groaned.

The ground below raced to meet them.

Sam, riding on top of Andre’s back, had dominant control of their movement.

Andre struggled, but it was easier for Sam to keep his position. Just a simple fact of physics and airflow.

Below them, Sam took notice of the upcoming landscape. They were going to land somewhere near a large river beside a harbor. A massive fortress dominated the northern bank on its own artificial island, while large Baroque-Style Buildings adorned the southern. Something about the buildings seemed familiar to him, but he couldn’t seem to remember why.